Angel Rodriguez
by Stickittodamoneosis
Summary: Angel's story, sister peice to The Collinator. Loosely based on the movie from HBO.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, Angel Rodriguez (the movie from HBO), or anything else in here...like...Pulsar or whatever. I own nothing! -waves hands around-**_

* * *

"Faggot!" 

"But Papi, I-"

"Don't 'but Papi' me, you little queer! Get the FUCK out of my house!" With that, Samuel Rodriguez pushed his son, Angel, out of the tiny duplex. Angel could hear his father locking the various bolts and locks on the door, assuring that he wouldn't get back in.

Helpless, Angel began his trek down to the only place he thought to go- T's. His feet, clad in six-inch platform heels, trudged along the cracked ghetto sidewalk to his "best friend's" apartment. (Really, the two had nothing in common. Angel only played along with him to keep up the illusion of his masculinity.)

Hoping he wouldn't get the same response from T as from his father, he rang the buzzer and waited for T to appear at the door.

"T?" Angel asked cautiously when the overweight boy opened the battered, white door. "It's Angel."

"Angel?" T said, incredulous. After a pause, he said, "I think you got the wrong T, man. Go get some help." With that, T slammed the door in Angel's face and left him out in the cold.

A chill wild blew by, causing Angel's longish blonde with to blow around his slender face, and his tacky pink shirt to blow around his…HER thighs.

Angel sighed loudly, the sound shuddery and nervous. She noticed after several minutes that she was crying. That combined with her cheap, thrift-store wig, warranted that she was getting more than a few stares from the people passing by her on the sidewalk. She backed slowly up to the wall of the building she was in front of and started walking to…who knows where.

Suddenly, she remembered something the school psychiatrist had told her and her homeroom class at the beginning of the year.

"If you're ever feeling lost or like you need help, you can see me after school before eight PM, and I'll be there to listen."

Angel looked down at her bright blue "Swatch". It was 7:26. If she hurried, she might be able to make it to school in time. (This was ironic, because Angel was never usually in a hurry to get to school.) PS251 was only 16 blocks away. Breaking into an ungainly run (Angel had had plenty of practice walking in heels, but running was another situation entirely), she headed full speed down the street.

* * *

Angel finally made it to school at 7:56, just as Mrs. Donahue was going out to her car. 

"Wait!" Angel cried, funning to the small-framed woman as fast as she could without falling. Angel saw her reach into her purse for something (presumably pepper spray or something similar) when she stopped her.

"Wait, Mrs., Donahue! It's Angel." Angel pulled her wig off quickly, making the therapist's jaw drop.

"A-Angel…?" Mrs. Donahue stuttered, clearly shaken.

"Yeah." She said quietly, putting the gaudy wig back on carefully.

"Ah," The psychiatrist coughed into her hand. "Why are you here, Angel?" She asked, putting her teacher's manual and other assorted books on the top of her red Pulsar.

"My dad kicked me out." Angel muttered, rubbing under her eye where her father had punched her before pushing her out the door. Her hand came back black; her mascara was dripping down her face. "Shit." She muttered.

"So I take it you don't have anywhere to stay?"

"Yeah."

Mrs. Donahue nodded and dug through her purse for a moment. After a moment, the woman let out an exasperated sigh and turned to Angel.

"You can stay with me and my family tonight, I suppose. I'm sure my husband has-" She paused for a second. "Er, I have…"

"Either is fine." Angel murmured, dabbing at her streaked face with a corner of her red, puffy jacket. She probably would have said more, but by now she was completely exhausted.

"Alright, good. We'll contact your parents tomorrow after school. If they won't-"

"They won't take me back." Angel stated cynically.

"_If they won't take you back,_" The psychiatrist tried again. "I'll get you to some people that can watch after you until they do."

"They're never going to take me back." Angel said again.

"Never say never, sweetie." Mrs. Donahue said, climbing into the driver's side of that compact vehicle and grabbing her books off the roof at the same time. Angel followed suit, getting in on the passenger's side.

* * *

Mrs. Donahue lived in the suburbs, so it took about 45 minutes to get to her home. Or, at least, that's what Angel inferred; she fell asleep almost the instant she sat down in the car. 

The psychiatrist lived in an average suburban home with an average suburban family in an average suburban neighborhood in the average suburban community of Lansdale.

Mr. Donahue, who incidentally drove a Suburban, was a lawyer. He seemed pleasant enough, but Angel could detect a shadow of disgust in his hard blue eyes.

Their six-year-old daughter, Louise, took an immediate liking to Angel. The little girl followed her everywhere from the moment she stepped in the door. When Louise asked her name, and Angel told her so, the child seemed overjoyed.

"Really? You're an angel?" She squealed, her little hands moving up to cover her open mouth. Angel laughed.

"Yup." She replied with a smile.

"What does Jesus think of me?" Louise asked, in the innocent, completely sincere way that only a small child can say. Angel smiled knowingly and bent down to meet the girl's gaze.

"Jesus loves you, because Jesus loves everybody."

Though she had never been very religious, Angel had remembered that bit from a sermon when she was around Louise's age, back when her family still went to church. It seemed to be the right thing to say, because the little girl's face lit up and Mrs. Donahue smiled at the both of them.

She had heard from the psychiatrist and several other people that this bright-eyes little girl was suffering from leukemia, but it definitely didn't show on her. Angel had never been that close to sick people before. Was disease always visible, or did it just hide away inside until the time came for it to be unleashed?

* * *

**_A/N: I have no clue where that Jesus thing came from, I'm an atheist. XD But it works!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: THANK YOU JONATHAN LARSON. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. TToTT …oh HBO too…but not as much.**_

_**A/n: Big scary italic section is flashback yaye.**_

* * *

"Angel! Wait up." Mrs. Donahue ran up to Angel, who was dressed as a boy right now, in the hall. Angel turned around slowly, looking bored.

"Yeah?" She, a 'he' again in these clothes, in this place, said monotonously.

"I called your house and nobody would pick up…I left a message. That okay?"

Angel shrugged.

"Goot luck getting them to call you back." He murmured, turning back around. The therapist grabbed him by his shoulder and turned him around.

"Angel, I'm _not _done talking to you."

"Heh…you're starting to sound a lot like my mom, you know that?" With that, the kid turned back away from her and started walking off to the cafeteria, leaving the woman to stand there in a half-daze, staring off at his back.

"Mimi!" Angel squealed, running up to his friend in the lunchroom and hugging her tightly.

"Ack…Angel. Angel. Hey. Choking." Mimi croaked.

"Eeep…sorry." He said with a laugh, releasing the pretty Latina girl.

"So what's up, girlfriend?" Mimi was the only person that actually referred to Angel as a girl. She was the only one who knew…or, she was before yesterday.

"Ugh…" Angel sat down at a table. "My dad kicked me out."

"Oh my god! Chica…" This time, it was her turn to give the suffocating hug. "Why'd you tell him? I mean, yeah, but…your dad is like…"

"I didn't _tell_ him, Mimi. He just basically found out. My mom…walked in on me. She had to run and tell Papi." Angel spat out the 'names' of his parents with contempt. His friend sighed.

"Hey, Angel-" Mimi opened the door to her room and gasped. There, in front of her mirror, was her boyfriend. Angel. In one of Mimi's pleated miniskirts.

"_A-Angel?" She stuttered, eyes wide. Angel whipped around._

"_Mimi! I-"_

"_You're…you're _gay_?"_

"_No! Mimi…please, just listen to me? For a second?" Angel pulled the girl to sit next to her on the bed while she spoke. Taking a deep breath, she said,_

"_I'm not gay. I'm…I'm just a girl. Okay?" She gestured at the clothes she was wearing. "This…" Pause. "Is me. That," Angel pointed to her picture taped to Mimi's mirror. "Isn't."_

_The boy on the mirror looked lost, Sad. Bored. Overall, he just looked unhappy. This Angel was….different, obviously. The look in her eyes was pleading, but she looked so much more natural, and somehow...so much more like herself._

_There was a silence for a moment. Then, nodding slowly, Mimi said she understood._

"_I knew you would!" Angel grinned. "Thanks…you really don't know how much that means to me." _

_Mimi smiled good-naturedly at her friend. _

"_Hey Angel?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Why did you even start dating me in the first place?" She giggled at Angel's blush._

"_Well, uh…pretty much so everyone would stop calling me a fag, actually." She scratched the back of her head nervously. "And I guess I liked you anyways…just…not that way." She laughed a little. Mimi smiled._

"_Uh-huh, right. I get ya. And one more thig…" She poked Angel in the thigh. She blinked and looked up at Mimi with a questioning look._

"_Green isn't your color." Mimi stated._

"_Shut up!"_

"So where'd you sleep last night?" Mimi asked, hoping her friend hadn't slept in an alley or something.

"Huh? Oh, I stayed with, uh, Donahue."

"_Donahue?" _Mimi cracked up.

"Shut up, she has a really sweet little kid." Angel smiled. "Her husband's an ass, though." Mimi rolled her eyes.

"They're all assholes, chica. Get used to it." Angel laughed. "But seriously…if you need somewhere to stay, my brother's been sleeping overnight with his girlfriend for the past few weeks. We'll be alone."

Angel knew exactly what she meant. When nobody was around, he was free to fress how he wanted and act how he wanted and _be_ how he wanted without worrying about the taunts and threats of being around people he didn't know well. He smiled.

"Sounds good…I'm gonna have to go by my place to pick up some stuff, though." Angel cringed slightly, and Mimi looked sympathetic.

"You want me to come with you?"

"No…I'd probably be better off if I went alone."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Mimi sighed again.

"See you later?" Angel said with a small smile.

"Yeah, see ya." They got up. "Bye."


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: Again, I had this on LJ, so why didn't I put it up here? Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I have another chapter written, but haven't gotten around to typing it yet.

* * *

Angel slid his key into the lock on the door, hoping his father hadn't yet changed the locks to be sure he wouldn't get back into the apartment. Thankfully, the key fit. Now, Angel was faced with the task of getting in unnoticed by his mother, who was unemployed and spent most of the day in her room watching TV and sleeping.

Gently, he pushed the door open and started climbing gingerly up the stairs to his room.

Just as her reached the last step, his mother appeared in the doorway of her room.

"What are you doing here, child?" His mom snapped off in Spanish.

"Getting my stuff." The kid murmured, staring down at his shoes, the wall, anywhere to avoid her eyes.

"Your shit is in the basement." The heavyset Hispanic woman hissed. "You go get it, then get the fuck out of here before your father gets home from work, you hear?"

"Fine." Angel muttered, clunking down the stairs and opening the door to the basement. The boy stumbled down the six wooden steps into the dark basement, his mother close on his tail.

"Now take what you need at leave." She commanded as her son stored his clothes in a big, black garbage bag.

"I heard you the first one." Angel grumbled, losing his patience with his mother.

"Don't you talk back to me, young man! I'm your mother!"

Angel dropped the handful of clothes he had on the floor and whipped around to her.

"I don't have a mother." He hissed, grabbing up his bag and running out the door, nearly knocking his mom over in the process and leaving her to stand there, stiff and quiet as a statue.

Mimi Marquez awoke with a start when there was a pounding at her door. Groggily, she stood up from the couch and looked out the peephole to see her friend, Angel.

"Angel!" She cried, ripping the chain out of the door lock and letting him in. "Are you alright?"

"Does it look like I'm alright?" Angel sobbed.

This was true- he looked terrible. His coffee-brown eyes were red and puffy from crying, and his palms had deep marks where he'd been digging his perfectly manicured fingernails into them.

"My god! Sit down, girl!" Mimi said, looking at her friend with concern.

"No…Mimi, I gotta change. I can't talk to you like this." Angel glanced up at the Latina pathetically.

"Yeah, okay. I gotcha. Chill out."

The two walked to Mimi's bedroom, Angel leaning on the other girl's shoulder for support until Mimi left her alone to change by herself.

Angel emerged a few minutes later in a pink faux-angora sweater and paisley pleated miniskirt, complete with black pleather go-go boots and that same tacky blonde wig. The majority of all Angel's 'chick clothes' were bought for her from various Goodwills and dime stores around the city.

"Mimi, could you do my makeup?" she questioned. The other was just about to ask why when she noticed her friend's hands shaking violently.

"Sure, honey. Anything."

"Thanks."

The two girls walked into the bathroom together, where Mimi sat Angel down onto the toilet seat and grabbed her blue eyeliner out of a drawer.

"So tell me what happened, Ang." She said, rubbing the dark substance along Angel's eyelid.

"Oh, God…" Angel shuddered. "They really aren't going to take me back, Meems, I'm alone…they moved all my stuff down to the basement, everything…"

"Bastards!" Mimi cried suddenly, accidentally poking Angel in the eye with a mascara brush.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

"I just don't know what I'm going to do…" Angel let out a deep sigh like she hadn't breathed in a week.

"Well, I could try to convince my brother that you're Angel's sister, Also named Angel, that got kicked out for getting pregnant or something and needed to stay with us for a while, but even he wouldn't buy that…probably. Or we could just come clean with it."

"Or I could live on the street and-"

"Which I'm not letting you do."

"Fine, fine…I guess I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

"Nope." Mimi grinned and pulled Angel up by her hands so she could look in the mirror. The drag queen looked ecstatic.

"Thanks, Mimi."

Mimi looked at her friend in a motherly fashion.

"Come on, chica. Let's go shopping." She laughed.

'Shopping', of course, consisted primarily of window-shopping down at 'the strip', a short stretch of salvage stores, fast-food restaurants, and weird random shops owned by people from various places in Eurasia.

'Hair Pagoda' was no exception to these Eurasian stores. The owner was a tiny Russian man that spoke next to no English. Despite that, he sold 'new and old pieces of hair' for 'a competionive prize', and his son (though he had the intelligence quotients of a retarded waffle) worked there every day and was sexy, so there was never a reason not to go.

It was also in this store that Angel finally parted with the blond crap wig.

After finding a different one, a black bob (Angel preferred blonde, but Mimi insisted the black looked more natural), the two friends walked to the counted and sold the wig for two dollars and fifty cents.

It wasn't missed.


End file.
